Eva’s POVThe air in the house felt strangely light that morning. It had been a few days since Henry had left without much of a warning, and though I tried to keep busy—feeding Jude, folding his tiny clothes, wiping the same countertop over and over—the quiet unease never left me. I could still hear his last words ringing in my head, vague and loaded, like a warning cloaked in calm disappointment.I stood by the kitchen sink, staring at the stillness outside the window, the cup of untouched tea growing cold in my hands. The silence of our home felt like it was mocking me. Jude’s tiny laughter occasionally echoed from the living room where he played with his blocks, oblivious to the storm brewing in the lives of the adults around him.And then the door opened.I didn’t hear footsteps right away, just the faint click of the lock, and the soft creak of wood under careful steps. I turned around slowly, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird in my chest.“Henry?” I called, unsure if it wa
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